This past week John and I took a trip to the DC area to be present for the funeral of my brother-in-law, Tony Smith. It was a sad trip as we said good-bye but there was also the life-affirming nature of reconnecting with family and close friends. A Viet Nam vet, Tony succumbed to cancer at age 74, most certainly the result of his exposure, decades ago, to Agent Orange. As though that war was not complicated and difficult for all involved on all sides, its vestige continues all these years later as aging soldiers fall to similar diseases.
On the way back to Vermont from MD we travelled along the Chesapeake Bay up to Havre de Grace, the mouth of the Susquehanna. That is where Karen and I will end up, hopefully, next year. We will then have three full river lengths under our belts (or paddles, if you will): the Allegheny (well most of it), the Ohio, and the Susquehanna. We are paddling towards 2000 miles together over the last twenty years.
A river runs through it is such a great phrase. The movie by that name captured the hearts of many of us nearly 30 years ago (1992). Rivers have run through our lives since first setting out on this paddling journey. Yes, I refer to the abovementioned rivers but also to the streams of change, excitement, challenge, hope, life, and death. While Tony is the first of our generation to leave my family, other generations have gone before him. Both Karen and I lost our mothers and she lost her father since we started out. My father had already died when we began this journey which is probably a good thing. He would have thought us crazy and worried much more than my mother, I think. Wars and pandemics have raged.
Our children have become adults, married, and had children of their own. We have moved into new homes in new places with plans in the making for yet another new home for Karen and Mark. We have made new friends along the way, separately and together. We have become open to new ideas and careers.
And a river runs through it. The life-giving, constant flow of water. Both Karen and I never fail to be thankful for what life has brought us in our families and work lives…and in the once-a-year journey that takes us on the rivers of America. And so, as long as our aging bodies will allow, we will continue to paddle the rivers, sleep on their banks, and meet the fine people who live along them.
Next Saturday we will set out from our respective homes to meet in Sunbury, PA, where we hope to end this year, and drive together upriver to Towanda, PA, where we ended last year. By Saturday evening we plan to be a few miles down river. This coming week we will check our camping gear once again, take inventory of our dehydrated meals, wonder how many meals we can eat in restaurants that we find along the way (a lot, we hope…especially with fewer COVID restrictions than when we paddled last year), and check the long-range weather reports to see if we will hit the inevitable thunder storm or two.
Final preparations are no longer as specific as they used to be because we have learned so many times that the river and its people take care of us. As long as we have a little food and water, our tents, the canoe, paddles, and life vests, we know we will be ok. Can’t wait to detach and push that canoe, Wonder, out into the flowing waters of the Susquehanna River once again. Our muscles may bind a bit more and our bones creak but our spirits will soar!
Paddle With Us 